Chapter 62 - Beer Mugs and Smugs
Since Myrrh and I clinched victory in the Licensure Examination Tournant, I’m honoring my promise to treat our circle of friends to dinner. But this isn’t just any dinner—it’s a feast to rember.
We now stand before a shimring karaoke establishnt, its façade a chaotic tapestry of neon lights in every color imaginable. Fluorescent signs flicker and pulse, casting a kaleidoscope of hues on the bustling crowd.
The air buzzes with life as adults stream in and out, their laughter blending with the arcade beeps and synthesized jingles that echo from inside. It’s six in the evening—not yet the peak hour—but the place is already alive with energy.
“Ta-da!” Neil and Fei announced with matching grins, gesturing toward the lively venue. “Welco to Xyraxis Karaoke!”
“Wooow!” Dianca clapped her hands in delight, her eyes sparkling. “I’ve always wanted to co here! They say it’s super fancy and costs a fortune!”
“That better not be true,” I muttered, already fishing out my wallet. Inside, a neat stack of bills and coins reflected the fruits of my past month’s scrimping, along with my freshly withdrawn allowance.
“Wow, you’re really prepared for this, Zaft!” Remuel said with an impressed grin, leaning in to peek at my stash.
“Co on, Mister Topnotcher,” Cindy teased, elbowing my side with a smirk. “Don’t be a cheapskate!”
“Relax, Zaft!” Neil chid in with his usual enthusiasm, giving a thumbs-up. “We’ve got your back. The fries and beer here are bottomless, and they serve street food from all over the world. It’ll be worth every cent!”
“Yes! And it has over five hundred five-star reviews! Look!” Fei exclaid, shoving her phone in front of my face. The glowing screen proudly displayed Xyraxis Karaoke’s 4.9-star rating, along with a bold banner announcing an enticing ten percent discount on their all-you-can-eat offer for tonight.
I squinted at the screen, narrowing my focus on the fine print beneath the flashy ads. My gaze slid down to the karaoke box prices. Even with the discount, the cost still lood like a silent predator, ready to pounce on my wallet. Feeding seven people wasn’t going to be cheap. After a deep breath and a ntal farewell to my savings, I finally surrendered.
“Fine,” I muttered with a resigned sigh, already mourning the crisp bills I’d so carefully hoarded.
“Great! I’ll reserve us a room!” Fei practically bounced with excitent as she snatched the cash from my hand and dashed off toward the counter, her long black ponytail swaying behind her.
A gentle pinch on my elbow drew my attention. Turning to my left, I found Myrrh standing there, her smile strained with a hint of guilt. She clasped her hands together in mock prayer. “I’m sorry... I’m kind of short right now, so thanks for saving my butt. I swear I’ll pay you back—on our third date.”
I shot her a sideways glance, letting the corner of my lips twitch into a smirk. “That third date better cost at least half of what I’m spending here,” I said, my voice laced with mock severity.
“Geez, you’re so stingy!” Myrrh puffed out her cheeks in an exaggerated pout, crossing her arms like a sulking child.
After ten minutes of eager anticipation, we finally secured our private karaoke room. The space was cozy yet vibrant, with colorful LED lights lining the ceiling and a plush semicircular couch that wrapped around a sleek, glass table.
At the center of the table stood a barrel-shaped jug of beer with an automated tap that refilled glasses as if by magic. Beside it sat a towering bucket of fries, each piece dusted with an assortnt of seasonings—cheddar, barbecue, sour cream, and more. To mix things up, I had also ordered mozzarella sticks that oozed cheese, tender wagyu cubes that practically lted in your mouth, crispy panipuri filled with tangy chutney, and even fried balut for the adventurous eaters.
While most of us dove straight into the food, Dianca had other plans. She grabbed the microphone with a sparkle in her eyes.
“I’ve always dread of singing karaoke with friends,” she said softly, her lips brushing the mic like she was addressing an audience of thousands.
“Please, be our guest and start the music,” I replied, gesturing toward the screen with a playful bow.
Dianca grinned mischievously and raised the mic high. “This first song is a special dedication to our esteed champions—Mister Zaft Callahan and Miss Myrrh Alicent! Congratulations on your incredible win in the tournant!”
She lifted her glass dramatically, prompting the rest of us to follow suit. “To Zaft and Myrrh!”
“To Zaft and Myrrh!” we echoed, our voices clinking together like the beer glasses raised high above our heads.
And so, the festivities began. Myrrh and I couldn’t get enough of the crispy fries and perfectly seared wagyu cubes, while Fei devoured the fried balut with unrestrained enthusiasm. Remuel and Cindy were obsessed with the panipuri, their laughter punctuated by bursts of delight each ti they bit into the crunchy shells.
Neil, however, focused solely on the beer, guzzling glass after glass with reckless abandon—despite having been discharged from the hospital re hours ago.
Dianca took center stage for most of the night, alternating between sipping her drink, nibbling on mozzarella sticks, and belting out song after song. Her voice carried a surprising warmth that filled the room and set the mood for our celebration.
When Dianca finally passed the mic, Fei stepped up to serenade us with a soft, romantic ballad, her voice lilting like a gentle breeze. Remuel followed, unleashing an intense death tal performance that left his vocal cords shredded and all of us in stitches. Then it was my turn.
I went for a classic slow rock song, my voice wavering through the lyrics. Let’s just say singing isn’t my strong suit, and my lack of practice was painfully obvious. I would’ve been content with my attempt, but Myrrh wasn’t about to let off the hook.
“What the hell, Zaft? You’re such an oldie!” Myrrh slurred, her cheeks flushed from a mix of tipsiness and mockery. Her blue eyes sparkled mischievously as she leaned toward , the teasing smile on her lips impossible to ignore.
“Fine then, Miss Mary Sue,” I shot back with a smirk, holding out the microphone to her. “Let’s see you do better. Show what you’ve got.”
With a dramatic flourish, Myrrh snatched the mic, her wavy hair swishing as she stood up. She scrolled through the song selection, her lips quirking into a confident grin before settling on a pop hit with notoriously challenging high notes. The music started, and all eyes turned to her.
The mont she began singing, the room fell silent, save for the upbeat track and Myrrh’s voice soaring over it. Her performance was electrifying—effortless control, precision, and those high notes? She nailed them without breaking a sweat. It wasn’t entirely a surprise to ; I’d heard her sing once before during our first year in high school. But still, watching her command the room like this was sothing else.
When the final note faded, the room erupted in applause.
“That was incredible, Myrrh!” Fei clapped enthusiastically, her excitent spilling over.
“You’d make a fantastic idol!” Dianca chid in, practically bouncing in her seat as she clapped along.
Neil raised his glass with a lopsided grin. “You really are a Mary Sue!”
“Hmph!” Myrrh flicked her blone-green long hair over her shoulder, her face still flushed but now from pride rather than alcohol. “It’s just a basic skill,” she said with a mockingly sassy tone, waving off the praise like it was no big deal.
“Enough of your arrogance. I’m pretty sure Dianca can beat your score,” I teased, my words slurring slightly as the alcohol began to muddle my head.
Myrrh’s eyebrows twitched, her blue eyes narrowing into fiery slits. “I knew it! You really like Dianca, don’t you?!” she snapped, her voice tinged with an accusatory edge.
“Huh!?” I gawked at her, almost choking on my drink. “Are you seriously jealous again?”
“N-No! Hic!” Myrrh’s protest was cut off by an involuntary hiccup, her flushed cheeks deepening to a shade that rivaled her dress. She spun on her heel, pointing her mic dramatically at Dianca, who was slumped lazily against the couch, her eyelids heavy from the alcohol’s effect. “Dianca Fritz! I challenge you to a duel of songs!”
Dianca blinked, her hazy eyes widening slightly. Then, with a grin and a yawn, she reached for the spare microphone sitting next to the karaoke screen. “Oh, so you want a duet? Fine by !” she said, her voice light and airy as she swayed to her feet.
The room buzzed with anticipation as the two divas faced off, the karaoke screen lighting up with the first song. Myrrh stood tall, radiating sass and determination, while Dianca, more relaxed but no less confident, took a deep breath and steadied herself.
The music started, and the battle began. Even as they munched on fries and sipped their drinks, their voices rang out with surprising clarity. The alcohol might have dulled their senses, but their vocal skills were untouched. High notes soared, harmonies intertwined, and the room filled with applause after every verse.
When the song ended, the karaoke machine chid with the results. A tie.
“Again!” Myrrh cried, her competitive streak flaring as she clenched her fists.
The second song was queued up, and then the third. With every note they hit, every lyric they belted, the room seed to co alive with energy. The fries and wagyu cubes dwindled, the beer flowed freely, and the tension between the two singers grew. Yet no matter how passionately they sang, the scores refused to budge.
By the fifth round, their voices were beginning to crack, and their movents were sluggish. Myrrh’s hair had co undone, strands of her greenish golden hair sticking to her damp forehead, while Dianca leaned heavily on the mic stand, her usual composure replaced with drunken giggles.
Finally, with one last wobbly note, both of them dropped their mics onto the table, collapsing onto the couch like exhausted warriors after a hard-fought battle. Their flushed faces, ssy hair, and tired grins were a testant to their shared determination—and perhaps their shared stubbornness.
“This will go on forever, Myrrh! We need a tie-breaker!” Dianca shouted, her cheeks blazing red, her voice carrying the slight slur of soone both frustrated and very drunk.
“Fine!” Myrrh snapped, puffing out her chest like a defiant rooster. “How about a contest of our chests?”
Dianca froze, her wide eyes darting to Myrrh’s proudly displayed assets before glancing down at her own modest fra. “That’s not fair!” she wailed, puffing her cheeks in protest. “There’s no way my oranges can beat your lons!”
“It’s not about size!” Myrrh declared with drunken determination, jabbing a finger at the air. “It’s a contest of softness! Whoever has the softer chest wins!”
Dianca’s pout deepened, her lips forming a tiny “o” as she processed Myrrh’s ridiculous proposal. “Fine!” she huffed, crossing her arms before pointing dramatically at . “Zaft will be the judge since he already dipped his face onto mine this morning!”
“Wait, you noticed!?” I blurted out, my jaw nearly unhinging. Even through the haze of alcohol, guilt hit like a brick as I recalled the awkward collision earlier that morning.
Dianca threw her arms wide open, her eyes half-lidded as she beckoned with exaggerated flair. “Co here, Zaft! Ti to eat your breakfast again!”
“What the fu—woah!”
Before I could finish protesting, Myrrh’s well-aid kick sent stumbling straight into Dianca. My face landed squarely against her chest, triggering an instant replay of the morning incident. But this ti, the fragrant floral scent I’d noticed earlier had faded, replaced by a lingering trace of beer and snacks. What hadn’t changed, though, was the undeniable softness pressed against my face.
“So, Zaft,” Dianca cooed, wrapping her arms around with a mischievous grin. “How is it? Enjoying yourself?”
“It… It’s nice,” I mumbled, my voice muffled and tinged with mortification. “But, uh… since I need to set a benchmark, I can’t give you a perfect score. So… nine out of ten.”
“Great!” Dianca exclaid, a devilish grin spreading across her face. Without missing a beat, she gave a firm shove, sending stumbling backward—straight toward Myrrh.
“Wah!” I yelped as I lost my balance.
My crash landing was cushioned by sothing soft and undeniably bouncy. Myrrh’s arms instinctively wrapped around my head, pressing firmly into her chest. A sweet, alluring scent filled my nose—a delicate, floral fragrance that lingered like freshly spritzed perfu. It didn’t take long to realize she must have sprayed it right onto her cleavage.
To make matters worse—or better, depending on how you looked at it—Myrrh began gently stroking my head, her fingers weaving through my hair. Her seductive voice rang out, low and teasing. “So, Zaft… how about mine?”
“I-It’s softer,” I mumbled, my voice muffled against her chest. My cheeks were burning, my heart racing. “I’ll… give it… a ten out of ten.”
A triumphant glint sparked in Myrrh’s eyes. She leaned closer, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. “I knew it. You really can’t resist my hot body, can you?” she cooed, her voice dripping with playful charm.
“Y-Yeah,” I admitted weakly, surrendering to the alcohol-fueled haze. The warmth of her embrace, coupled with the softness pressing against my face, was enough to short-circuit my rationality. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around her in a tight hug, letting out a muffled, contented sigh. “Mmmm, this is so delightful. Feels like my birthday…”
“Feast on, my stupid troublemaker,” Myrrh whispered, tightening her hug as if to seal her victory.
But before I could fully sink into the blissful warmth, a loud, wailing cry cut through the room.
“Waaaah! Zaft likes Myrrh’s breasts more! I lost!” Dianca sobbed, covering her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook as she cried dramatically, her voice rising with each hiccup. “Huhu! This isn’t fair!”
While Dianca drowned her sorrows in mug after mug of beer, Myrrh turned to her, a smug grin plastered across her face. “Victory is mine,” she said, her voice filled with playful arrogance as she patted my head like a prized possession.
Dianca slamd down her empty beer mug with a pout. “Just you wait, Myrrh! Next ti, I’ll win with brains, not boobs! Wait, I forgot that I'm an airhead! There's no way I can beat Myrrh! Fuuuuck!”
That's the first ti I've ever heard Dianca swear, and it's actually kind of cute. Her image as a pure, innocent girl has now been ruined by just a few beer mugs and smug remarks.
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